


Bite at the Wires

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: Coldwave Week 2016 [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Coldwave Week 2016, Day One - Captivity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“...I feel like a traitor, a phony, a fake. But I am a hypocrite with the best intentions, and I need kissing desperately.”―Coco J. Ginger</i>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s never been much of a sentimental man, but Len would give <i>anything</i> to see Mick one more time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite at the Wires

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited! I've never done something like this before, so I'm so excited to be participating! Here's my contribution for Day One of Coldwave Week 2016!! also!! huge thanks to elrhiarhodan for being my beta!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Len goes between collected calmness and simmering panic. He’s thankful to have a cell to himself, otherwise his fidgeting and soft bouts of talking to himself would have an audience, and that wouldn’t do. The bed is stiff, the walls are rough, and the floor is freezing cold. Len tells himself he’s curled up in a ball to keep himself warm, not because he’s scared or lonely.

Len hadn’t gotten a chance to tell Mick “good bye”, or “see you later”, or “don’t do anything stupid”. Things had gone awry so fast that Len isn’t even sure what he _had_ said last to Mick, if anything. The trip to 2046 had been lingering in everyone’s minds, Mick’s most of all.

The betrayal tainted every kiss, and that was when they would kiss at all. Mick kept pulling away when Len reached for him. Sometimes, Mick swore it was because he just needed some time. Other moments Mick didn’t make any excuses at all. Len didn’t fight him on any of it, prepared to wait.

Now, though, locked in a dirty cell with no means of contact, Len hates himself for not trying harder. He isn’t even sure if Mick is looking for him. Len wonders if Rip started to lay out the plan and wonders if Mick had cut in to tell everyone it wasn’t worth their time. Len can’t help but wonder if his friends are gone and have left him in the past. It’s irrational, Len knows Mick would never go that far, but it’s been at least a day and Len doesn’t feel any closer to being rescued.

He curls in on himself tighter and tells himself he’s shaking because of the cold.

)

Len learns the guard’s shifts pretty quickly, not that it does him any good in trying to plan an escape. He doesn’t know the layout of the prison aside from the few hallways he was dragged down. The only thing the shift changes tell him is the approximate time. He knows he’s been locked up for two and a half days and he’s finally willing to concede that the tightness in his chest is from more than just a chill.

He’s distantly thankful that he’s allowed to keep his clothes as he knows his parka is warmer than anything the prison would have provided.

It’s verging on three days since he last saw Mick and his heart is aching. The night before this debacle started, Mick had refused to share a bed and Len isn’t even sure where he ended up sleeping—Raymond’s room, maybe? Len had barely gotten to say good morning before he had been knocked out, kidnapped, alone.

He’s never been much of a sentimental man, but Len would give _anything_ to see Mick one more time.

)

“Snart.”

Len startles but doesn’t open his eyes or otherwise move. He’s been having this same dream every time he’s dared to sleep since getting locked up. Mick’s voice is a harsh whisper and barely audible.

“ _Snart_.”

Len isn’t going to open his eyes, because as long as he keeps them closed he can pretend this is real.

“For fuck’s sake, Lenny, wake the fuck up!”

Len sits straight up because that’s _definitely_ Mick talking. The cell door is wide open and Len can see a few guards out cold behind Mick. Len gapes like a fish out of water. Mick’s face shifts from agitated to fond. He steps into the room until he’s right beside Len’s bed.

“You coming, or what?” Mick barks, holding out a hand for Len.

He takes the offered hand and lets Mick pull him up. He can’t find any words; it feels like his throat has closed up. Mick links their fingers and _finally_ for the first time in days, Len feels warmth seeping into his skin. Mick pulls him along with no regard for the stiffness in Len’s joints. As they half walk, half run Len realizes nearly every guard is knocked out and so are many of the prisoners. He looks at Mick.

“Knock out gas.” Mick grunts.

Len’s curious but doesn’t press. It almost feels _too_ easy to just stroll out of a heavily guarded prison; it feels worlds easier than when they were trying to rescue Mick and Raymond. Len takes each corner expecting someone to jump out in front of them, aiming a gun at them, slam into them and knock them out again. His free hand flicks to his holster even though he knows it’s empty. “Mick, the cold gun—?”

“Palmer already got it. He’s back on the ship.” Mick tugs especially hard on Len’s hand and they’re finally at the exit. Mick picks up his pace and Len follows his lead, adrenaline keeping him steady on his feet even though his knees are still shaking. Outside the prison is eerily silent and Len has to wonder what extremes they went to for _him_.

The ship flickers into their view as the cloaking shuts off. He and Mick walk into the ship and it immediately comes to life, returning to the air and cloaking itself again.

Len is half expecting Mick to finally let go, to break the link of their hands—but he doesn’t. They walk all the way to main center of the ship, where the rest of their team is waiting. There’s no explosion of joy when he and Mick enter, but the tension thins and relief takes its place.

Martin walks over and claps a hand to his shoulder. “Glad to see you in one piece.”

Murmurs of agreement spin around the room and Len finally feels completely warm again. The bone-deep chill that had settled inside him over the past three days dissipates. Len allows himself to flash a small grin. He meets the eye of every one of his teammates, even Rip, before finally facing Mick again.

“Mick, I—?” Len isn’t totally sure what he’d been planning to say, an apology maybe or perhaps _I love you_ but Mick cuts him off. Mick’s lips are dry and chapped and burning hot against Len’s own, and the kiss is deep and angry and desperate. Len gasps into the kiss and his free hand finds purchase on Mick’s coat. Mick’s arm snakes around Len’s waist and pulls him even closer. Faintly, Len hears the wolf-whistles and groans and clapping of their team.

Vibrantly, though, he can taste and smell and hear Mick more than anything. The ashy musk of Mick’s skin, the bitter taste of booze on his lips, the deeply pleased rumble in his chest. Len’s eyes feel wet and that’s when he finally breaks the kiss.

“Mick.” Len can’t stop the blush that covers his face, especially as Sara whistles exceptionally loud.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Mick grunts, going so far as to pinch Len’s side in warning. Mick looks like he wants to say more but he falters. Len isn’t sure if it’s just because Mick isn’t much of a talker or if it’s because of the others in the room. Either way, Len kisses him again.

“Okay.” Len promises.

 


End file.
